


Seeing

by rowofstars



Series: Watching [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4865351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to my fic Watching. Belle wonders where the hell Gold has gone, Gold angsts a bunch but drags himself home, and the stalemate is broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the first fic and was so encouraging and vocal about wanting more. I didn't originally intend, as I usually don't, to write a sequel, but it seemed like there needed to be one. So here it is. I hope it satisfies.

Belle rolled over in her bed and groaned as the sharp pulsing throb of a headache made itself known.

She buried her face in her pillow for a few moments, relishing the cool darkness, before she lifted her head enough to see the clock on her nightstand. She groaned again and let her head drop.

Friday had been spent feeling confused and worried. Gold was nowhere to be found, and she didn't know what that meant. All day she kept sneaking looks across the street to see if he had just opened the shop late. She had thought perhaps he had gone out of town for the morning, he'd done that before, and that he'd be back in the afternoon.

Lunch came and went. The library closed at five. And still there had been no sign of him.

She hadn't felt hungry for supper, but made herself eat a sandwich anyway. Every car that drove by, every thud that might have been a door, had her running to the window and peering out into the darkness. She made tea that went cold and then made more besides, sitting on her sofa with the TV on and an open book in her lap until it was after midnight. 

Still no Gold.

Saturday morning his car still wasn't out front and his house was dark and closed up. Belle feared something had happened to him, that he had driven off somewhere and - what? Gotten into an accident? Remembered what she'd done and had a coronary?

That had been a terrible thought.

Worse yet was the notion that he was appalled by her behavior. Maybe, despite his obvious physical reaction to her little show, he was so disgusted he couldn't stand to look at her. He'd left town to hide until - when?

He had to come back; he lived here, worked here. He owned properties, collected rent, built a life. And a less than pleasant reputation.

Well, she had never cared about any of that. For all the gossips around town said about him being a monster, Belle never saw anything but a warm, kind soul. Albeit hidden under a few layers of grump and eccentricity, much like the way he layered his slight frame in three piece suits.

By Saturday evening though, Belle was just - disappointed.

Gold wasn't back yet, and she had decided he was either actually dead or dying in a ditch, or he really didn't want to see her. When Ruby called, Belle didn't hesitate in her answer. But in the glaring light of early Sunday afternoon, a night out at the Rabbit Hole didn't seem like a great choice.

She rolled onto her back and rubbed at her eyes, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to clear the fog in her head. Deciding on some aspirin followed swiftly by a hot shower, Belle pushed herself up, and made her way to the bathroom, patently ignoring the closed and curtained window. The pounding in her head increased with every step and turn, and it was all she could do to get the damn medicine bottle open and two pills swallowed. She braced herself on the edge of the vanity as she moved to the shower and turned it on, the act of leaning in to do so bringing a wave of nausea. 

She made herself not look at the toilet and once the water was hot, stepped into the shower.

After she was done and dry, and the aspirin had a chance to start working, she felt markedly better. She made her way downstairs, intending to make some tea, but stopped at the front door to pick up Saturday’s mail. Hesitating, she bit her bottom lip as her hand gripped the door handle.

Belle sighed as she stepped outside. Gold still wasn’t home and his house was starting to look unlived in. There was a small package by the front door she had failed to notice on Friday, along with Friday and Saturday’s newspapers. A few mail envelopes stuck up out of the box by the door. If circumstances were different, if he had told her he would be out of town, she would have been neighborly and collected them for him. She’d have also made a point to deliver them in person, and maybe he’d invite her in and offer to make tea, _maybe_ -

She huffed and shook her head, worry and disappointment slowly being replaced by anger.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The windshield wipers squeaked lightly, clearing the lazily falling Sunday night rain as Gold drove back towards Storybrooke.

He passed the welcome sign, crossing over the town line, and sighed. Unsurprisingly, running had not helped. In fact, it had probably made things at least ten times worse. Friday he had already planned to be out of town most of the day, to make a deal for a pair of French Restoration style chairs in Portland. But once that was done, he found himself sitting in his car unable to turn the key and drive back to Storybrooke. He decided to spend a couple of days at his cabin, hoping the fresh air and isolation would clear his mind, but of course it hadn’t. 

Running had made that worse too.

Belle probably thought he was a coward, which was true, or that maybe he’d used her in some way. He’d be lucky if she ever looked at him again, much less spoke to him or - well, anything else.

He still didn't know what to think. He felt worse than awful, the lowest of the low, a dirty old man who had taken advantage of a good, kind young woman. And yet, his memory tried it's best to remind him that he hadn't really spied on Miss French, that he'd merely been at the window with every intention of closing it and the curtains. It was so unbelievable, watching what Belle had done, that she would think of him like that, as so much more than a friend and neighbor. She saw him, looked right at him, and smiled. And then - he shook his head as the images of Belle French pleasuring herself came to mind again. 

He'd hardly been able to think of anything else in the last three days. Last night, in a scotch induced daze, he’d relived the entire thing until he spilled himself all over the wool blanket on the cabin’s sofa. He cracked the window as his face flushed, burning with shame all over again.

He came to a stop by the curb in front of his house and caught himself looking at her house as he got out of the Cadillac. The porch light was on, as usual, because it was on a light sensor, but all the windows were dark. No light peeked out from anywhere that he could see.

He stopped at the bottom of his front porch steps, one hand on the railing, the other on his cane and looked up. There on the side, the first of only two windows on the second floor, was her bedroom. That fateful window. It was dark too, and from what he could tell the curtains were drawn.

She would probably never open them again. She wouldn’t want to take the chance, or have the reminder.

Gold sighed, and walked up the steps to a house that suddenly felt lonelier than it ever had before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Monday morning, Belle had firmly landed at well and truly _pissed off_.

There it was as she walked out of her house, purse slung over her shoulder, right on time at seven thirty. She’d stopped dead on her front porch and stared, feeling her face grow hot, her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. 

Gold’s car.

The bastard had finally come back.

She shot a glare at his house and then flipped her hair over her shoulders as she stomped down the steps to her car. The drive to the library was faster than usual, thanks in part to her leaving on time and not lingering to try to talk to Gold. Her seething anger and resulting lead foot probably helped too. And she’d need to apologize to Mary Margaret for not stopping at that last intersection. She scared the cup of coffee right out of the poor woman’s hands as she zipped through

Belle never saw Gold open the shop, but it was dim and gray enough outside that she could see the lights on in the shop. The morning at the library was surprisingly busy, for which she was quite grateful. It left her little time to dwell on the goings on across the street at Gold’s, but then lunch came and she found herself sitting at the circulation desk, pouting.

It was Monday and he hadn’t come over to return the last book he borrowed.

It was also raining and miserable outside, mirroring what she was feeling. She was still mad, that was certain. She supposed the dull headache she was fighting was less from the dreary weather and the lingering effects of her Saturday night out, and more from clenching her teeth every time she chanced a look out the window. 

The afternoon was slower, and she had too much time to think. At some point Gold must have gone for lunch, but she didn’t see him. Part of her wondered how he was feeling, if he was as confused or angry as she was, not that she felt he had the right. Everything had been left squarely in his court and he’d chosen to run.

Soon enough it was five o’clock, and Belle was standing outside the library, turning the large brass key in the lock. Across the street, Gold was flipping the sign on his shop door. He paused, watching her, the way her skirt swished about her knees as she stepped outside, how she pulled her hair back when she bent down to the second lock.

He sighed. She hadn’t even looked up when he walked by on his way to Granny’s for lunch though he’d lingered longer than he should have, spying on her through the glass. Was this what he’d become? Too chicken to talk to her, but not so much that he wasn’t hoping to catch a glimpse of her when she wasn’t looking?

There would be no more smiles and little waves for him, no friendly conversation while he returned his book, no teasing suggestions that he maybe read something written in this decade. He wanted desperately to have the nerve to walk across that street and talk to her, but not only did he not possess even a fraction of the courage required, he had no idea what to say.

With another sigh, he opened the door and stepped out into the cool air and light rain.

Belle brushed her slightly damp hair out of her face and turned around, tucking the library key in the pocket of her purse. She looked up and froze.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and shook his head, tossing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. Before he could turn back to lock door, he looked up and saw Belle still standing across the street. She was staring at him. He could feel her eyes on him and swallowed hard.

She watched him take a step forward, and a part of her hoped he was going to cross to her, that this strange stalemate would finally end and it would be him who made the first move. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, just like she had that night, but then he looked away and started down the street.

She sucked in a shaky breath as her anger boiled over.

“Oh no you don’t,“ she muttered as she started to cross the street, stepping off the curb in front of Dr. Whale’s Mercedes without so much as a sideways glance at him. Gold must have heard the short squeal of the brakes because his head turned quickly. He stared at her as she stalked across the street, and she felt her face warm.

Gold, tensed and then abruptly turned, trying to duck back into his shop.

“Oh, no you don’t, Adam Gold!” she shouted, daring to use his first name for the first time since he told it to her when he signed up for a library card. He’d been so nervous that day, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if that was perhaps the first sign that there could have been something between them.

“Miss French,” he gasped as he backed through the open door of the pawn shop, his free hand raised in supplication, the other tight on the handle of his cane. “J-just let me explain -”

“No,” she said firmly, following him through the door. She let it shut hard behind her, and dropped her purse before she spoke again. “I need to say this before I lose my nerve.”

Gold stopped by the end of the counter, next the cash register, keeping some space between them. It was clear that Belle was more than angry at him. She had never used his first name before, and though he loved the way it sounded on her lips, he knew he was the cause of her anger and distress. “Please,” he begged. “If you would just -”

“Shut up!” Belle was fuming, her breathing was ragged and her palms hurt where her nails dug into the skin. She took a deep, shuddering breath and met his eyes. “Just listen, please?”

He gave her a plaintive look and nodded.

“I know I did something stupid and impulsive. I know it probably made you uncomfortable, but what you did -” She paused to swipe a hand over each eye, wiping away the tears that had gathered at the corners. “What _you_ did was worse. You _left_. You just ran away!”

“I’m sorry,” he managed.

She looked down at the floor, at the tips of his shiny shoes, and swallowed. Her throat was getting too tight and she knew she didn’t have long before she lost it completely. She wanted to be out of her before that happened. “I thought - I didn’t -”

She was almost shaking and she swallowed hard, pressing her hands against her chest where her heart was thumping madly.

“What?” Gold’s voice was soft and took a chance and stepped closer. He could see she was on the verge of tears, and he just wanted to say something to make it better. 

Belle saw his feet move closer and she lifted her head to find him standing almost right in front of her. She sniffled loudly. “You left. You left like nothing had happened. Like it didn’t _mean_ anything!”

He made a small noise and reached for her, but she shrugged him off. This was all his fault. He’d upset her so badly and he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. “Belle, _please_.”

Tears dribbled down her cheeks, catching at the corners of her mouth. She’d never heard him say her first name. “I worried about you, okay? I was afraid -” She paused to sniff and wipe her eyes again. “I thought you were mad at me. Or that you drove off and got in an accident. Or worse that what I did _disgusted_ you.”

“No!” Gold insisted, hesitantly reaching for her again. “Belle, no. Please - you have to know. There was nothing depraved about what you did, only what I did after the fact. That was - you - it was beautiful, Belle.”

“Then why?” She stepped back from him, her arms folding around her body. “Why, Adam?”

He knew now that he was the lowest of the low, bringing this sweet, beautiful woman to this state, causing her to doubt and hate herself, letting her think that what she had given him was anything less than perfect. He’d run like the coward his ex-wife always said he was, and yet Belle had worried for him, cared for him. He didn’t deserve her.

“Because I’m a coward, Belle.” Now he was crying too, his dark eyes welling up with tears, his mouth creased with sadness. “How could you ever want me?”

Belle let out a sob, a squeaky almost hiccupping noise, and pressed a hand over her mouth. It was true, she realized. Somewhere in the last two years of being his neighbor and his friend, she’d fallen for him. Mr. Gold, the town asshole. The monster. The beast. The - kindest, most charming man she’d ever met, who actually listened to her even if she was just babbling about her undying love of the Bronte sisters. It wasn’t just a fantasy; it was so much more than that. And right now he was looking at her like he could live or die by her next word, like she hung the moon in the sky. She was barely able to suck in a breath. Her chest ached with a deep, longing pang that made her head throb and her throat tight.

She grabbed the lapels of his pinstriped suit and crushed her lips against his.

Gold froze, his hands rose up to hold her against him, but then he thought better of it. After a moment, Belle pulled back and blinked. She licked her lips at the same as he swallowed, and in that instant whatever issues were between them, the fear, the anger, the unknown, evaporated.

She stepped into his arms, and this time he didn’t stop himself from holding her as she kissed him again, softly. She pushed at his lips with hers, parting her mouth to lick at his lower lip until he opened for her. He groaned when she slid her tongue into his mouth, and one hand pulled at his clothes as the other threaded in his hair. That seemed to be all it took to coax him into being a full participant because a beat later, she was pulled flush against him. 

His mouth was hot and wet over hers, tasting faintly of tea, and her knees trembled. His hands were roaming her back then sliding into her hair. He held her gently, cupped her face in a way that made her feel fragile and precious even as their mouths tried desperately to devour each other.

“Belle,” he rasped as he managed to pull back. He felt dizzy and warm, and his throat was too dry. “We shouldn’t -”

She kissed him hard, a rough, flat smack of her lips against his. “No,” she agreed. “But I don’t want to stop.”

He bent again to capture her lips again, a breathy “oh Belle” escaping just before. She would have smiled if she hadn’t been doing something infinitely more pleasurable with her mouth. A giddy feeling rushed over her as she started to guide him backwards. After a couple clumsy steps, he seemed to get the idea, and let her push him back through the beaded curtain into his workroom.

They did their best to keep their lips from straying too far, but when his legs hit the edge of the old cot, he lost his grip on his cane and it clattered to the floor. He sat down hard, grunting and pulling her with him. She managed to shift to the side, minding his bad leg, and straddled his lap, her arms looped around his neck.

Gold leaned his forehead against hers, his hands at her waist, holding her back from his very obvious erection. Her lips were swollen from kissing, her light pink lipstick smeared and shimmering over the corner of her mouth.

“Let me -” he started. Then he licked his lips and took a breath. “Let me make you dinner first. We should - talk, or-”

She kissed him again, plucked at his bottom lip with hers and then followed with her teeth. “Want you now,” she breathed. “Dinner later.”

He nodded as she started pulling on his tie, and managed to shrug out of his jacket by the time she worked the knot loose. She tossed it to the floor behind her, and shifted further up his legs, bringing the heat of her core against him. He groaned as she wriggled her hips, rubbing against him, the friction wonderful but not even close to what he wanted.

“Are you sure?” he asked, not realizing she had popped the top three buttons of his shirt until he heard one of them fly off and land on the tile.

She grinned against his throat, inhaling the earthy, spicy smell of him that she’d come to like so much. “Oops.”

She turned her head and kissed his neck, a slow, sucking, nibbling kiss, as she pushed a hand between them to work at his belt. He let his head fall back against the paneled wall, moaning as he pulled at her blouse until it came free of her skirt. The skin underneath was soft and warm, smooth against his palm, grounding him to the moment.

He wanted better for her than this, he wanted her laid out in his bed, he wanted to take his time, giving her all the pleasure her body could stand. But she was eager and he feared that if he stopped her that he’d never find himself here again. On the drive home she’d come to her senses and realize what a horrible mistake she almost made. He’d never see her again.

“Hey,” she whispered. Her hand came up to press against his cheek, coaxing him to look at her. When he did, she leaned in and kissed him softly. “I want this. I want _you_.”

He pulled her against him and kissed her back, leaving no further doubt about how either of them felt.

With a little maneuvering, they managed to get his trousers and boxers down to his thighs. She lifted her skirt out of the way, pressing her silky knickers against his aching cock. He hissed and griped her hips, encouraging her movements until she stood up to pull her panties off entirely, dropping them next to his tie. There was a moment while she was standing there, that she looked him up and down, and he tried not to let his discomfort show. But then her eyes looked down, very pointedly, and she licked her lips, enjoying the way his cock stuck out obscenely, his rumpled shirt and trousers pulled half down making a deliciously debauched picture.

With a coy smile, Belle straddled him again and took him in hand, stroking his length with her fingertips. His hands clutched at the blanket beneath him, fighting with every ounce of self-control he had. She was hot and wet and he swore this might just be the best damn dream he’d ever had. She lowered herself over him, taking him in so slowly he thought he might lose it right then, until she was finally settled against him.

She let out a long, low moan, her head tipping back to expose her neck and Gold immediately sat up to nip and suck at her, following a path from the dip of her collarbone to her jaw. Her hips rolled, and they both groaned at the new sensation. He felt perfect inside of her, stretched and filled her without pain or wanting more. Bracing her hands on his shoulders she repeated the motion, biting her lip around a smile when he bucked against her.

They managed a sloppy rhythm, rocking into one another in small, shallow movements. She lifted herself as best she could, her thighs burning with the effort, as he held on to her waist and pitched his hips into her. Every time he did she keened and scratched at him through his shirt, and he swore he was going to get her in a bed later, or the sofa, something horizontal where he could take full advantage of whatever spot seemed to be driving her mad. 

Her hair was wild, falling over both of them, trapping their hot breaths between them, their lips brushing occasionally, teeth nipping gently. It didn’t feel like a quick and dirty fuck in the back of his shop. It was intimate and messy and _real_.

Gold managed to get out her name in a strangled, hoarse gasp, and she knew he was close. He was trying desperately to hold on her for, so she slipped a hand between them. He looked down and watched as her fingers rubbed tight, hard circles above where they were joined, pressing and sliding over her clit. The sounds she was making, the urgency with which she chased her orgasm, her desperation to come with him was too much. There was a gush of wetness and he buried his face in her neck, letting out a heavy sigh as he pulsed inside her.

“Oh - oh, Adam,” she cried out.

Her mouth fell open, panting as she pushed down against him, a wave of relief rushing over her as her pussy fluttered around his still hard cock. Belle slumped forward, smiling as his arms came up around her, splayed across her back to hold her against him. Her hand was still trapped between them and they were a wet sticky mess, but she didn’t care. She’d happily walk out of here with her blouse wrinkled and untucked, gooey between her thighs.

After a few minutes, Gold felt her pull back, and he prepared himself for the inevitable scorn, but instead he was met with a wide, lazy smile. Belle lifted up and off of him, leaning down to give him a kiss before she set her feet on the floor.

He reached for her, holding her around her waist as he rested his head against the slight swell of her belly. It was too much to believe that any of this had happened, much less that she was happy about it and might want it to happen again. They needed to talk first, but his mind was still too fuzzy to care about that.

“Please let me take you to dinner.” he said, his words muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

She laughed and stroked her fingers through his hair. “How about we go home and clean up, and you can _make_ me dinner?”

He raised his head and saw her bright shining blue eyes gazing down at him, and he smiled back at her. “And after dinner?”

Belle bit her lip and took a step back, letting his hands trail over her hips and then fall away. “After dinner I think you owe me a favor.”

Gold frowned as he pushed himself up and started to right his clothing again.

She grinned devilishly as she bent to pick up her panties, tucking them into the front pocket of his trousers. He swallowed and licked his sore lips, bruised from her eager kisses. Her heels brought her up to his chin and when she tipped her head up, her lips were dangerously close to his.

“I think I’d quite like to watch _you_ , Mr. Gold.”


End file.
